Misled
by shintas1st
Summary: Sometimes it's not a good idea to go it alone.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Young Justice, the comic or the show, or any of the characters associated with it. I make no profit from this work of fiction; it is purely for entertainment purposes.

**A/N**: Some Ollie whumpage for my darling Chu.

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The lead hadn't been completely fake, it'd led him straight to the warehouse that served as a hub for Westchester's most prominent gang. It'd taken him nearly a month to get a solid hold on their patterns, even longer to coordinate a visit that would allow him to break the majority of the group down in one fell swoop.

He was as prepared as one man could be but it wasn't enough and he knew, as he lifted his head from a bed of wood shavings and stray feathers, that his arrogance had gotten the best of him more than once on this occasion.

"You really thought we didn't know you'd be listening in after you hit our people in Villa Park?"

The man wasn't the leader but he was high enough on the food chain to get first swing at Green Arrow after they'd managed to overwhelm him. Ollie could still feel the sharp pain of the bruises on his ribs and cheek from the torque wrench.

Apparently the man wanted an answer, a harsh nudge at the ugly purpling splotch developing on Arrow's chin making him wince. He caught the mocking look and scowled, turning his head away. As much as he hated the scum bag, his anger wasn't aimed all at him. Like an idiot he'd underestimated the intelligence of the men he hunted. After figuring out their system of smuggling drugs out via metal capsules force fed to live chickens meant for shipping, he'd blown the tires on three leading trucks and tipped off the police in the Villa Park area. The bust dealt a powerful blow, and the gang activity in that area of the city waned the night after.

The silver lining wasn't nearly enough to eclipse the cloud hanging over Ollie's head once he stuck his nose into the _real_ action prematurely though. Like a fool he thought he was ready to hit the problem at its center, striking a month after while the iron was still hot. Who knew breaking down that shipment was the equivalent of pissing all over their business?

A boot caught his hood, tugging it down and mashing it into the bed of wood chips along with a good bit of the hair at the back of his head. He withheld a hiss when it twisted slightly and ripped a few strands loose, refusing to turn his head to alleviate the pain. Better to lie still on his side until he could find a way to free himself than squirm the way they wanted him to.

"Silent treatment?" The boot lifted and he had no choice but to look at it when he was circled, the same shoe taunting him like a putter prepped to swing. "But you're usually so... _talkative_."

The kick forced out a shout of pain, Green Arrow's head snapping back from the impact. For a moment he couldn't tell if the sudden sweep of darkness over his vision was from his surroundings or not, the headache he had only worsening from the pounding in his head. He grit his teeth, trying his hardest to keep his expression neutral, not only as a show of bravado but because even the slightest contraction of muscle in his face managed to chisel at the pain radiating from his broken nose. Admiration for his efforts was the farthest thing from what he got, the treads of the boot that had struck him pressing against his awkwardly bent nose.

"What happened to all that shit you said about taking us out, huh," his tormentor hissed, sneering when a particularly nasty shove from his foot garnered a muffled scream. A sharp jerk of shoulders and head got Green Arrow's face out from under the man's boot, but not without consequence. The blood trickling from his nose seemed to increase for a few moments, fresh streams rolling over the patch smeared across his lips and cheek, welts rising where the treads scraped at his skin.

He couldn't remember how long he'd been there. An hour, several maybe, or perhaps it'd only been a few minutes. Either way he was sore and tired, and entirely _not_ up for the task the man was currently ordering him to complete.

"I said get _up_."

He was kicking him again, harsh contact with stomach and legs and chest that made him gasp and jerk at his bindings. They'd tied him with extension cords, the technique used in the knotting unmistakably practiced. It was like trying to break a cinder block with his wrists, the length of cord around his ankles just as tight and making him snarl in frustration. He couldn't stand even if he wanted to and that shit-eating grin on the man's face made it clear that he was fully aware of the fact. The archer was forced to suffer a few more kicks and taunts before he was given a moment of relief, shaky breaths stirring the wood shavings that were starting to cling to his lips.

"Pick him up."

He heard the command but it didn't fully register until there were hands at his elbows and shoulders. Yanked first in one direction and then the other he soon found himself on his knees, body aching in several places where the pain of fresh wounds had been renewed by the jostling. He sagged in place, head hanging a bit, though he wouldn't allow himself to fall. The moment he'd settled down to wait for whatever was going to be thrown at him next, he felt the pulling again, and he bit back a howl when he was dragged to his feet.

Earlier, when he'd assumed a round of smoke filled arrows would allow him a quick and effortless sweep of the building and its inhabitants, he'd made the mistake of entering through the roof. It was something he often did and, just as he'd studied the habits of the gang, they'd studied _him_.

The two bullets he'd taken had gone clean through, one to his right thigh, the other to the hand on the same side, and he fought hard now with the terrifying sensation of jolts of pain closely followed by a tingling numbness. It was like getting chills while overheated, the unnatural combination making his heart pound in his chest. While part of him begged to be free of the pain the other feared the consequences of allowing himself to slip into unconsciousness once more. The last time he'd woken with a gun pointed at his head and a splitting agony in his lower back. There was next to no doubt in his mind that they would grow tired of toying with him if he reverted to being completely unresponsive again.

The feeling of being lifted was sickening and he barely kept from gagging when his boots left the floor. He was only taken a couple feet, the cord looped and knotted around his wrists and arms behind his back placed over a hook on the wall. They wanted him standing when they beat him to death he assumed, the concern he should have felt for the realization surprisingly absent.

He grunted and worked the fingers of his left hand but the blood dripping from his right wasn't nearly enough lubrication for him to be able to slip free. The hook on the wall was high enough to keep him on his toes, and with his weight pressing down on the already tight cords on his arms he could feel the sensation draining out of them. His bad situation was only getting worse, and he shook his head slowly in an attempt to clear it.

"There won't be anything for the cops to identify but a green and red _smear_ when I'm done with you."

The breath that hit his face was hot and sharp, the distinct scent of menthol making Ollie's throat tickle. He swallowed thickly, choked when the butt of the wrench was pressed against his neck. The bloody smirk he threw at the man when he finally lifted his head did more than any scathing insult could, and Green Arrow felt his entire body seize when the man's temper flared.

He was screaming at him, anger at the hero's arrogance and fear of what his own superior would do to him over the break off of one of their vital branches driving him to inflict cruel blows. Three swings in and there were screams to match his own, the dull thud of the length of steel meeting Green Arrow's abdomen nowhere near as chilling as the sharp crack of his knee. The cap was shattered, the form fitting material of the man's tights showcasing the unnatural lumps just as prominently as his own skin would.

As angry as he was, the man didn't strike his head, something that could have killed him on the spot. He lashed out at Ollie's limbs, allowed the heavy tip of the tool to collide with his ribs and sides, but wouldn't put him out of him misery with a blow to the temple.

A half hearted swing brought the wrench down on Green Arrow's shoulder, nowhere near hard enough to dislocate. The man was breathing heavily, sharp angry hisses of air that chilled his teeth. Ollie was hardly even aware that he was backing off. He hung silent save for the occasional ragged breath, tiny bubbles forming in the blood on his lips and in his nose. Without the support of his legs, however little there had been, the cords were free to constrict his arms mercilessly, and he was no longer aware of the shaking of his hands.

"Do you have... _any_ idea... how hard you fucked me over?"

Green Arrow could just make out the animated movements in his peripheral. The man sounded winded, exhausted from the beating he'd just dealt him. If he wasn't hurting so bad he might have snorted.

The footsteps were faint, muffled almost, and when Ollie lifted his head his vision swam. Either the man was tilting slowly to the left or his head was too heavy for his shoulders, the difficulty of gauging just _where he was_ growing higher with each passing second. He could hear the sharp scrape of the tool against the ground and then the cool steel of it on his jaw, pushing his head back up until he could make out the man's yellowed eyes.

Green Arrow gasped out a curse when he was struck, not by the wrench, but by a fist. A tooth was knocked loose; he felt it roll over his tongue before he was knocked in the opposite direction, the dislodged bone dropping from his lips. Again the wrench lifted his head, his bloodstained chin and beard taking the brunt of the push.

"_You_, your little _prick_ of a tagalong, that _bitch_... I've had just about enough of your shit."

A violent flinch betrayed the severity of Ollie's condition when the man raised his fist again. The coarse laugh didn't quite match the movement of his lips, and the archer fully expected to feel the wrench being lodged into his skull. A shatter of glass, however, stilled his attacker's movements, a bolt of black, red, and silver piercing the man's wrist. He knew a scathing lecture would be shoved down his throat later but he didn't care. Relief crashed down on his tired body at the harsh growl of his ex-partner's voice.

"You're not the only one who's tired of shit. You still alive down there?"

"Y-yeah," Green Arrow managed to cough out. His eyes were closed but he could still hear the screams and sharp twangs as Roy released a round of arrows into the men surrounding him. He wanted to be able to slip free, to retrieve his own weapons and _not_ look like such a pathetic mess in front of the budding hero but his ability to was shot. It wasn't even enough to get more than a faint squirm out of him when he heard a loud series of clicks, various death threats heard over the just audible voice of Red Arrow.

"Yeah, nice try, but I brought reinforcements."

By the time Ollie managed to open his eyes she was already in, jacket fluttering behind her as she landed next to a cage full of flustered chickens. He didn't even have time to brace himself; Canary's cry assaulted the gunmen in a deafening blast, and while Ollie was clear of her range he still let out a choked scream of his own. His head seemed ready to split, and even Roy, who had hurriedly stuffed plugs in his ears, was holding his head.

"Sorry boys." Compared to her scream her normal voice was a whisper,"Had to make sure they'd stay down."

Quick footsteps and equally warm hands touched his cheek and shoulder. He opened his eyes to the sight of Dinah's horrified face, his own twisting into an expression of pained amusement. "Wouldn't blame you if you said no to a kiss."

Roy clicked his tongue and Ollie winced and groaned at the almost searing sensation of the circulation returning to his arms. Free of the hook, he dropped, the combination of exhaustion, injuries, and the cords still tight around his ankles sending him toppling forward. Dinah managed to catch him but he was in no condition to be on his feet at all. He could feel her heartbeat thundering against his chest as he tried to muffle his own pained noises in her shoulder.

"They must've really torn you a new one," Red Arrow muttered behind him, his tone angry as he removed the remainder of the cords. Ollie was held carefully between the two and he could tell by the careful placing of hands that Roy still cared.

"Yeah, didn't like that little stunt I pulled in Villa-"

"_I know_."

Uh oh. That tone sounded more like it was directed at _him_.

"It's not like I don't check up on things around here, but even if I didn't it was all over the news. Figured I'd look into it too if it was _that_ important... I can't believe I actually thought you _wouldn't_ be stubborn enough to try and run _this_ one solo. What the hell were you-"

Green Arrow winced as the younger archer seemed to be building himself up to a full blown rage. It was only because of Canary's gentle persuasion that he was momentarily spared.

"Don't think I'll drop this," Roy hissed as he helped Dinah balance the man so the excruciating pain in his knee was only a horrible throb, "After we drag your sorry ass somewhere safe and get you treatment we're gonna use that nice _long_ bed rest of yours to spend some _quality_ time together."

Ollie sighed and nodded in defeat, unable to do more other than focus on not passing out in their arms. He could feel Dinah's fingers rubbing reassuring circles on his back and smiled slightly at the gesture, police sirens in the distance prompting the trio to move a little faster.

A Canary and an archer dragging a bloodied Robin Hood out of a warehouse full of drug stuffed chickens and unconscious thugs in the dead of night. Definitely one big happy family.

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End file.
